


It's Always Sunny In Toussaint

by orphan_account



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (I know how boring), Angst, Attempt at Humor, Ciri is a sassy brat but we all love her, Ciri is a witcher, Ciri is bisexual but she ends up with a girl in this, Everyone is happy and then sad then happy, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Geralt and Yen are so in love that it's daft, Geralt is a big child, Humor, I am why they can't have nice things, Lambert and Aiden were a thing change my mind, Multi, No Sex, Post-Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC), This fic is my therapy now, Yen is really loved in Toussaint, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2020-11-26 08:36:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20927285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's Always Sunny In Toussaint(You guessed it, It's not)Everything in Toussaint is going swimmingly, it always is in Nilfgaard's vassal state. Geralt and Yen are regarded as highly venerable and live a peacefull life as Vintners, entertaining the occasional Witcher's contract.But when what seems like another easy job to distract Geralt from the occasionally tedious monotony of being a (mostly) retired witcher and vintner turns into an minor inconvenience, in turn big issue and finally a spectacular disaster, everything doesn't seem quite so rosy.Can everyone hold each other and, moreover, themselves together when everything around them is falling apart?





	1. All good things...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 word count: 3341
> 
> This first chapter doesn't have a terrible amount of story in it, it's more setting the stage for what's going to happen.

\--Geralt--

“Greetings Éibhear”  
“Greetings Geralt, how might I be of help?”  
“Listen, could you craft something for me?”

Hattori glanced at the diagram Geralt had placed on the table. A sword of that calibre would take days to complete but he had the necessary skills and finally, after much toil, the tools required. He began studying it meticulously before curiosity finally consumed him and he raised his head to gaze upon the witcher's understandably hidden mug.  
“Where did you find such a manuscript?”

“Toussiant. Elven ruins.”  
Éibhear simply nodded, he had had a suspicion it was of elven design, and considered the scroll, absentmindedly chewing on the inside of his cheek. It was sophisticated and demanding to comprehend, even for an Aen Seidhe, but he took it as a challenge, for such a sabre was fit for the culling of gods.  
“Come back to collect it in, say... two days, it should be ready by then.”

Geralt smiled, the painstaking trip from south had taken several long days but he was firmly in the belief that the rewards would be well worth it in the end.  
“See you then.”

With that, the famed White Wolf from Rivia, who wasn’t actually from Rivia, turned and frantically walked away, as hastily as one could without raising too much attention and suspicion in the blustering crowd, which awkwardly danced amongst the various shops and homes in strangely beautiful chaos. He tugged cautiously at the cloak which carefully concealed his swords and visage, for he feared what horrific events could occur was he to let caution slip. Although the mad King Radovid was dead and the Eternal Fire's grip on the continent was waning rapidly, Novigrad was still heavily influenced by the cult religion's ridiculous ideals. Despite Nilfgaard's golden suns hanging everywhere as well as Cleaver and the King of Beggars: Francis Bedlam, pulling strings in the City's underbelly, many extremists and priests roamed the streets still preaching and harming anyone even remotely different or out of place, how Dudu Biberveldt and Zoltan Chivay were still alive in this monster den of persecution and prejudice, one could only wonder. In sight of all the disarray, Geralt preferred not to show his face here, although it was only a matter of time before the free city of Novigrad would be once again, truly free.

Upon reaching Glory Gate, he whistled for Roach and rode away swiftly, eager to leave the damned city which had become a death trap for all oddities.

There was quite some distance to Crow's perch, so Geralt used this time to reflect on the past year or so. Things had moved quickly after he found Yen, their reunion perverted after their original plan to meet in Willoughby suddenly went to shambles due to war: one army or another had raided and burned the village whilst passing through. The war was over; the Northern Realms conquered by Nilfgaard and Temeria getting back it's freedom as a vassal state; Skellige prospering with it's new queen, finally turning its back on centuries old traditions of raiding, looting and killing; but war still hurt, Velen was as good as a monster ridden marshland, the burning and hunting of magic bearers and in turn non-humans had left mausoleums full. All who had ever conspired against Emperor Emhyr Var Emeris now had rope tied around their neck, not to mention the countless slain fighting for a cause they likely didn't even believe in.

Geralt hadn't seen his sorceress for years before they were reunited and they had little chance to see each other after the royal audience in Vizima as well, they'd have to make up for all that lost time in Toussaint. With the Wild Hunt defeated, O'Dimm banished and Dettlaff (unfortunately, since the poor guy left Geralt no choice in his insatiable fury and grief) dead, he felt like they all deserved a rest.

After the Hunt, Geralt had set off with Ciri to teach her all he knew; before she went her separate way to start her new life as a Witcheress, forever on the path; he then scoured the lands for contracts, saving money to take Yennefer with him to live together and to finally do whatever they wanted, just because. Yet life was never that simple and even in Dandelion's absence adventure, woe and misfortune seemed to stalk the witcher wherever he went. One thing led to another, he had Gaunter O'Dimm to deal with and the beast of Beauclair to end. Yen was sorting out “urgent matters” as she had so crudely put it (despite being asked on several occasions by the Witcher, she refused to elaborate, as was her wont), but joined the White Wolf in Toussiant as soon as possible, not only because he insisted she did as such, but she was eager to start the next phase of her life and finally get away from plots, ploys and politics. They were both sick of conspiracies, besides, the couple could finally realise their plans extending centuries into the future, thanks to an extremely complex and trying spell Yen was working on, if the heat and her cumbersome wardrobe didn't end her afore.

Yen and Geralt had been thinking of settling down in Zerrikania, Dol Blathanna, Spalla, Cintra even; but Corvo Bianco estate and vineyard was in the perfect location: Toussaint, close enough to the palace to receive frequent visits from friends; and mere metres from the tourney grounds, where Geralt now competed fairly regularly; as well as the capital of the duchy: Beauclair, where they would go often to shop, attend a ball, eat or to simply stroll in the southern sun.

Not to mention the large river, which they had spent hours enjoying, and the cockatrice inn: despite it's complete lack of class (which Geralt was almost certain Yen would turn her nose up at) they were regulars there.

Despite Matilda de Vermentino and Liam de Coronata's three vineyards being very close to theirs, the wine they produced was selling exceedingly well already (partly because of the brilliance of Bianco's grapes and partly because of the magically enhanced taste, thanks to Yen).

Geralt's train of thought was disturbed when he reached the border post on the Pontar, he followed the same ritual as usual, using his pass to... pass. Rode through and allowed his mind to wander again.

Toussaint was where he wanted to be, he had friends there, and despite the duchesses' pure contempt for Dandelion, she allowed him access to her duchy and even started to converse with him again, although that may be an overstatement. In the months following Dettlaff's demise Yen and Geralt upgraded Corvo Bianco to truly be their home. It now had sixteen separate guest houses in case of having any visitors, which happened regularly. And although everyone thought it rather over the top, it wasn't uncommon for them to throw parties which resulted in all the residencies being full to the brim.

Hardly a day went by after one guest left before another came knocking.  
Most often it was one of Geralt's old friends; Regis, Zoltan, Dudu Biberveldt, Dandelion (Priscilla along with him, who had recovered to the point she was singing again) visiting for any time up to a few weeks, before, in Zoltan's hallowed words, they buggered the fuck off and left Geralt in peace again.

Or the more frequent, but less prolonged visits from a friend occupying Toussaint: Anna Henrietta; Vivienne de Tabris; Guillaume de Launfal; Le Papilon, the poet and bard; Damien de la Tour and Sylvia Anna; amongst others. There was still a lot of tension between Regis and Syanna, but with time, Syanna was changing for the better, and so was their relationship.

Ciri would stay for at least a week every month, then set off again in pursuit of adventure and coin only to return soon after. Lambert, Keira and Eskel stayed often too, trying to sync their visits with Ciri's. Although Lambert did practically live here, Geralt was sure it was mostly Keira's preference, Corvo Bianco had become somewhat of a focal point and she seemed to much prefer the bright sun and warm weather to the doom and gloom of the North, especially after posing as a cunning woman or village witch in the bogs of Velen for so long. Yenna was, of course, almost always at the estate with Geralt, which was extremely convenient for Keira since Yenna had been assisting her in her magical studies for quite some time now, almost becoming a tutor, although Keira had too much pride to admit it. But their reasons for staying didn't matter much to Geralt, as long as his prickly witcher brother and convincing friend were happy.

Vernon Roche, Ves and Thaler came by when they got the chance, the unlikely alliance with Nilfgaard giving the Temerian patriots access to this land of fairytales, tradition and lest we forget, wine. They were still ever grateful for Geralt's help in Radovid's demise and establishing Temeria as a vassal state of Nilfgaard.

Triss travelled from Kovir on occasions to see them all as well, her relationship with Yen was on the mend, although Yennefer was still finding it difficult to fully forgive her for everything she had ever done. But Triss hadn't been over in a couple of months, which worried them deeply.

Strangely enough, they had had visits from members of the lodge, it was mainly Margarita but sometimes Phillipa (they were all surprised) would accompany her on her occasional visits. Her “friendship” with the Raven (as people had grown accustomed to calling her in the duchy) was strange and fickle, but it was there. Rita had always been a generally kind, understanding and forgiving person, as well as a true friend to Yenna, in turn making her easy to get along with.

Even the baron had been here, mainly to update Geralt on Anna's recovery, which was going surprisingly well, especially with Yennefer's input.

Olgierd travelled down time to time to talk and update them on his predicament, he was doing alright considering everything that had happened and (to the Witcher's relief) had refrained from making deals with demons for the time being.

Ciri's friend Bea had moved to Toussaint and was working in the Cockatrice where the family frequented. She fell in love with Beauclair after her first visit and Ciri lent her the coin to get started on a new life down south.

Ermion, Udalryk, Queen Cerys and Hjalmar attended a few of the couples feasts, which were now famed for being slightly less elegant than Toussaint norms, which was mostly to blame for the presence of their Skelligan friends (they didn't mind at all however, in fact Geralt had been relieved for it, he hated the continent's idea of a 'feast').

Shani would stop by if she was around, but with being a medic and the Northern Realms still recovering from the war with Nilfgaard, this had only happened thrice to date.

Corine Tilly the oneiromancer and Sarah had taken Johnny in upon the White Wolf's request, who insisted they went to see the witcher often and they had obliged several times. To Geralt's amusement, Yen seemed to have a soft spot for the two godlings, in addition to a few rock trolls they had met in their travels and all the worker's children living on the vineyard.

Tomira had moved to Toussaint to get away from the aftermath of war, and now had a shop in the Gran'palace: Beauclair's town square. When Geralt and Yennefer had stopped by, the two women immediately got along, which didn't suprise him at all considering their shared interest in alchemy and somewhat similar pasts and personalities. Mislav had stayed in White Orchard, but did drop by once in a blue moon.

Out of Geralt's new friends and acquaintances, the sorceress got along with Annarieta and Syanna the most, to the point that she was now the (unofficial) court sorceress and had given Anna Henrietta (and almost anyone she was even remotely acquainted with) a xenevox to contact her with should she ever need help or advice. The xenevoxes where much like megascopes, but smaller, they were extremely troublesome to build, but Yennefer had perfected a string of incredibly difficult spells consisting of higher magic that allowed her to conjure them up without too much toil. Communication over long distance was now easy for Yennefer, which helped her greatly.

Although the two lovers had been looking forward to peace for a long time, they welcomed visitors with open arms and throughly enjoyed the company.

It was perfect.

Pure bliss.

The best part, Yen was enjoying it all with him.

Geralt suddenly snapped back to the present after hearing the loud and sudden neigh of Roach. Shocked, he tugged the reigns and the mare quickly halted to a stop. Had Roach not been so alert, they would've rode straight off a cliff and fell down a large descent. He had almost forgotten about the huge moat like dip that surrounded the run down dwelling.

Redirecting his horse to the bridge, listening to the clatter of her hooves on the wood, Geralt cast his eye over the local peasantry, they seemed to be in a better state then they were during his last visit, although they were still suffering from the aftermath of war. Upon passing a familiar face, someone he had helped during the sergeant's short-lived rain of terror, he smiled at the man who thanked him for likely the thousandth time and insisted, once again, that it was nothing.

Roach didn't need Geralt's guidance to find the master blacksmith, they had travelled through this small settlement countless times before: whenever he had needed new armour made or had been pursuing a new lead in Anna and Tamara's tragic case. He wondered what had become of the latter since Radovid and the church's fall, the witch hunters were non-existent in Oxenfurt now, and he had never seen her roaming Novigrad.

The Wolf had little time to dwell on it, however, since Yoana was already approaching him, a broad smile reaching her eyes. Through Geralt's numerous visits, the two had become fairly close and she still felt indebted to him for helping her achieve her dream. She put down the hammer she had in hand and threw her arms around the man, who returned the gesture before they broke apart. His retirement had made him soft.

“Geralt, good of you to come by, what can I do for you?” He opened his mouth to respond, but was swiftly stopped by her sudden rambling.  
“That can wait, how are Yennefer and Ciri? Did you finish the work on Corvo Bianco?”

The witcher smiled and followed her into the forge, Fergus was busily hammering nails into tempered metal, cursing under his breath. Geralt raised an eyebrow in suprise as Yoana gracelessly pushed several unfinished breastplates on the floor in one sweeping motion, dusted her hands on her apron and sat on the table, playing casually with the end of her blonde braid as she watched the witcher.

“Those looked important.” He speculated, which was met with a scoff.  
“Hardly, 'nother Nilfgaardian army order, you know how it is. A steady source of income, but more boring than watching the sunrise here. Come on, answer my question.” She huffed with impatience, legs swinging back and forth. Skelligers weren’t known for their patience.  
“Haven't seen Ciri or Yen for six days, went out on important business, didn't deign to inform me what about though,” The 'smith chuckled “But they are doing great, Ciri killed her first Slyzard last week, and Yen is loving Toussaint. Everybody respects us after the tourney; the beast; and surprisingly, although I still don't like it, Dandelion's ballads did their bit; she is right at home in all the elegance of that place.”  
“I don't remember much from my visit there, but I do recall almost drowning in formalities. It would suit her, but you?”  
“It all felt alien at first, got used to it by now, I even have a couple doublets at home”  
Yoana tried desperately to stifle a laugh, but there was no point, Geralt could clearly see the amusement in her eyes. “You're joking, right?”  
“No, Yen insisted on it, life or death you see, starting to think what Cerys said about me being hen-pecked might be true.”  
“Don't be ridiculous, Geralt. She loves you as you are, it's clear as day.” He smiled at her comment and thought about how much he longed to see her again. Geralt almost laughed at himself, they'd been apart for six days and he already missed her terribly, after how long they had spent separated because of the Hunt and other evils, he vowed to protect her and stay with her whenever possible.  
  
“Renovations are going brilliantly,” the witcher continued, “there's plenty of room if you'd like to visit?”  
Yoana looked startled. “Really? I wouldn't be a hindrance?”  
Geralt shook his head and smiled to himself at the look of ecstasy on her face.  
“I'd love to! When's the best time?” She asked, beaming. The Wolf considered this for a moment before taking a xenevox out of his pocket and giving it to her, she stared at the small trinket in wonder.  
“It's a xenevox.” Yoana just looked plain confused. Geralt chuckled before elaborating, she wore the exact expression he had when Keira Metz had given him the contraption. “It's like a portable megascope. See the hatch on the side?” She nodded. “Flip it open and there are three buttons.” The Skelligan obliged, and was met with three round buttons: the first was adorned with a swallow, the lines gently glowing green and wrote, 'The Swallow, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Ciri'; the next one was engraved with a raven, glowed a faint purple and was decorated with the words 'The Raven, Yennefer Of Vengerberg'; the final one, a wolf, bore the inscription 'The White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia' and emanated a gentle white light. He allowed her to inspect it before continuing.  
“Press the button of whoever you want to contact and wait half a minute, if there is no response, then push it again. Only press it a third time if it is a matter of great importance and needs discussing this instance.” Yoana nodded, paused for a few moments, then abruptly stood up, slipping the trinket into the pocket of her green apron.  
“Thanks, Geralt.”

She walked over to the workbench and added another log to the fire, before turning to him again. “I assume you forced yourself to come to the lovely lands of Velen for more than just a chat, hmm?”  
She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow slightly. “Please tell me you have something for me to forge, these orders are beginning to grow horribly dull.” Geralt smiled and took a manuscript out of his pocket. For some reason, Yoana reminded him both of Yennefer and of Ciri when she was younger and training at Kaer Morhen.  
“Yes, I found these old elven diagrams hidden in some ruins in the Caroberta woods in Toussaint,” he began, placing them on the table in front of her. She looked over then, eyebrows knit together in confusion then relaxing as she nodded.  
“Producing armour like this will be a challenge, but with the master tools and my skills, it should be ready in 2 days, no less.”  
“How much?”  
“Nothing, Geralt. This one's on me, I still feel I owe you for your help.”  
“You sure?”  
“As boring as those Nilfgaard orders are, they’re a steady source of income,” When he lingered she playfully waved a hand in his face. “Now go and let me work or it will take me 2 years to finish.”  
He smiled and whistled for Roach.  
“Oh, I almost forgot, baron wants to see you!” She called.  
Geralt let out an exasperated sigh and turned around, heading to the 'castle' Phillip Strenger and his recovering wife inhabited. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt: I don't have emotions  
Also Geralt: *Spends 2000 words thinking about his loved ones, feeling all the feels*


	2. Do not mistake the stars reflected in a pond for the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer and Ciri spend some time together in Toussaint, but are interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 word count: 1280
> 
> Regardless of whether or not you skipped chapter 1, the real story starts now, with Yen and Ciri catching up. 
> 
> I am mildly annoyed that more emphasis wasn't placed on their relationship in Witcher 3.

\--Yennefer--

She watched the clouds roll over the stunning moon whilst the stars sparkled in the far distance. It was breath-taking. The scene reminded her of the painting Geralt had hung up in the dining room of Corvo Bianco Estate. 

On a typical day, Beauclair was bursting with life, music, colour, food and, of course, wine. But in the moon’s gentle glow it was silent and lifeless, give or take the occasional drunk stumbling through the streets. 

It wasn't cold, it never was in the South, yet there was a slight, unsettling chill in the air this night. The sorceress wrapped the Cape that was draped over her shoulders tighter and attempted to fight the small smile growing on her face. The cape, of course, wasn’t her belonging, but Geralt’s. She claimed she took it to mess with him, get back at him for the unicorn incident but that was far from the truth.

Listening to the faint music coming from the Pheasantry a few metres behind her, she closed her heavy-lidded eyes. This was the life she had wanted all this time. The life she had in mind when she discussed it with Geralt before the battle with the hunt. They had waited months after the events on Undvik to finally settle down, and the wait was well worth the reward, it was everything she had wished for and more. It never once crossed her mind before that they might actually get their happy ending, but here she was.

Her eyes shot open when she heard the gentle tap of heels on the stone paving. Cirilla was walking up to her, ashen hair battled into a tight braid instead of it's usual messy bun, wearing a floor-length deep red dress adorned with pearls and various intricate jewels, it was the one Yen had picked out for her weeks ago when they went shopping. Ciri smiled at her and immediately began to tug at one of the sleeves. Yennefer tried to stifle a laugh, but Ciri noticed despite her efforts.  
“What?” She asked in feigned annoyance.  
“You're just like Geralt. He never stops picking at his doublets.”  
“Because they won't stop chafing my armpits.”  
Ciri stopped for a moment and then chuckled, Yen was right. She had inherited many traits from her adoptive parents, Geralt and Yennefer. Being the child of both of them, she was incredibly stubborn, but was generally very kind and reasonable, as well as possessing many skills in magic and swordsmanship. Regardless, her being a child of the elder blood meant she possessed incredible magical abilities that she only recently managed to fully control, a devastating development for the spectral riders of the Wild Hunt. 

“Ciri, darling, you look beautiful.”  
“Thanks, but honestly, I can't wait to change back into my armour or something less irritating.”  
Yennefer rolled her eyes and waved her hand, in an instant, the Swallow's gown was replaced by her white shirt and brown trousers, Zireael sighed in relief when she noticed her swords were on her back, where they belonged.  
“How did you do that?”  
“I'm a sorceress, ugly one.”  
“I really don't like it when you call me that.” Ciri wondered why she still protested against the nickname, Yen would either ignore the request or effortlessly play it off. She’d just have to deal with it like she did all these years. It did, however, remind her of simpler times.  
“As flattering as that dress was on you, I'd prefer you were safe. You know what Beauclair is like, Alps and Bruxae everywhere.” The enchantress gestured to a hooded woman walking by who quickly steered away from them, spying the witcheress' silver blade.  
“Yeah, Vesemir taught me about them at the fortress. They hate crowds and mostly stay away from human settlements. But if they have to they only leave at night and they stay hidden. They are easily mistakable with a hurried traveller, but are noted by swift movements, piercing voices and close ties to birds, vulnerable to the Yrden sign, Black Blood potion, Moon Dust bomb and of course, Vampire blade oil. There are so many in Toussaint because this was the first place the vampires saw after arriving here during the conjunction and lesser vampires, as beings driven by instinct and bloodlust, never ventured too far.”  
“You really were listening to the teachings at Kaer Morhen.”  
“Likely the only reason I'm still here,” She stopped for a moment and looked at the sky. “I miss him.”  
Yenna hugged the young adult, stroked her hair and whispered softly into her ear.  
“We all miss him, Ciri, we all do,”  
She sobbed on her mother's shoulder, although the battle of Kaer Morhen and Vesemir's end passed a long while ago, the wound was still fresh.  
“But he did it for you, because he loved you and he wanted to. Don't waste his sacrifice in misery.”  
The Swallow looked the enchantress in the eye and gave her a bittersweet smile. “How do you always know what to say?”  
“When you keep the company of a stubborn witcher and a naïve bard, you need to know how to talk your way out of any situation.”  
Ciri laughed and gestured towards the tavern, which was emitting a rather alluring smell. “Shall we?”  
“Of course.” The two walked in and made their way to the bartender. She promptly put down the cloth in her hand and greeted them. 

No less than ten minutes later and the two were sat at a secluded table, drinking cherry cordial and talking rather loudly. It wasn't an issue, the hour was late and the establishment was empty, besides a few drunks who didn't know any better.

“How was it then?” Yennefer stirred the mix in her mug with her finger and looked at the young girl, who was already on her third bottle.  
“Shite.” She leaned back and crossed one foot over her knee. Their ward got her 'wondrous' manners from her father and brothers at the witcher's keep of Kaer Morhen. “I hated every minute of it” She downed the last few drops and called to the inn keep for another.  
“But did it go well?”  
“Depends how you look at it.”  
Yen raised her eyebrow at the reply and realised that Cirilla was trying to evade the question. Many had tried to do this to the sorceress, but to no avail every single time. She was about to press the girl, but Ciri was already replying to her unspoken question. “I got the deal I wanted and left a very, very good impression, but I had to wear that ridiculously uncomfortable dress. If you ask me, I came out worse off.”  
The 'Horsewoman of War' laughed, she often felt like she was talking to Geralt when conversing with Ciri.

Ciri recounted the events of her meeting with Emhyr Var Emeris, who despite their efforts, had found out that Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon was still alive and well. The 'deal' she had negotiated was anything but that. After hearing what her father (as she refused to call him) had to say she told him to fuck off and plough himself, turned, and swiftly left, before teleporting straight to Yennefer, leaving a brilliant impression indeed.  
“You should've seen his face! It was priceless!” Ciri and Yen laughed at her recounting of the tale.

They continued to drink, laugh and reminisce into the early hours of the morning before being interrupted by the ring of Yennefer's xenevox. Once. They ignored it. Twice. Still ignored. Thrice.

The sorceress shook her head, picked up the device and began to answer it. Ciri watched with bated breath. “Who is it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *Just casually dumps all of my knowledge on Bruxae in as dialogue to show off and hopefully make it look natural*


	3. Roses are red, Holly hock is not always blue, Anna has a little something for you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt goes to see what the Baron wants and gets a very pleasant suprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 word count: 790
> 
> Hey guys, I'm sorry for not updating in ages but school and life have been kicking me in the ass, so I sat on this chapter and put off on editing and finishing it for ages. 
> 
> As James Acaster said: Starting making it, had a meltdown, bonne appetite!

\--Geralt-- 

"Wanted to see me?"  
"Hah, Geralt! Care for a drink?" The baron called enthusiastically; ever since he found Anna he had been significantly happier.  
"Thought you swore to keep of the hooch."  
"A few drops never hurt anyone."  
"Famous last words." Geralt mumbled and shook his head.  
"Oh, come now, Geralt, you're beginning to sound like that bard prick."  
Geralt sighed before accepting the bottle.   
"Where's Anna?" He asked, eyes scanning the estate.  
"Garden," Phillip Strenger paused. "You don't happen to still have Uma don't you?"  
"No."  
The baron looked surprised at the response. "Why the devil not?"  
"Uma was cursed, I took him to a witcher fortress and lifted it. There was an elven sage named Avallac'h trapped in his body. Doubt he'll play jester for you."  
The 'Bloody Baron' ignored the comment and sighed.   
"A shame, it's awful quiet without him, we all miss him here."  
"Would happily put Avallac'h back in Uma's body, believe me, don't see that happening anytime soon though. Is there any reason for calling me here?"  
"Aye." He turned and gestured for Geralt to follow "It's Anna. She's mostly recovered now, and she wanted to thank ye."

In the castle's garden Anna was tending to some flowers. She looked much better now, much to Geralt's relief he noticed that her eyes seemed much less distant and dead, they were now bright, curious, full of life. She was barely the woman she used to be. Upon hearing the witcher and baron arrive, she picked a flower, stood and practically danced over to Geralt. 

"Witcher. Thank you. You don't understand the huge weight that has been lifted from my shoulders." Geralt smiled at her as she looked down at the hollyhock in her hand, a thin smile tugging at the corners of her chapped lips, eyes filling with a potent mixture of longing, loss and relief. Geralt knew from what the baron had told him that Hollyhock was her favourite flora, the mood in the garden had been so different then. Everything had been taken away from the Baron so quickly, he was fortunate a certain white haired Witcher happened to have lost somebody close too and was willing to do anything to find her. The world seemed to love playing that game: Taking and never giving, until somebody took the initiative and claim what they felt they were owed. Greed always ended badly. It was just a matter of time. Whoreson Junior went from his demented idea of heaven to a cripple begging on street corners for accepting Redanian coin. Syanna slipped up and was found out after trying to recover one too many lost childhood treasures. Even soldier’s serving the Redanian eagle became fed up of Radovid’s madness and witch hunts, resulting in many conspiring against him before he was blinded and assassinated at the hands of the sorceress Phillipa Eilhart herself, whose eyes he’d ordered gouged out mere months prior, it was poetic justice at it’s best.

Geralt’s gaze fell back on the small woman before him who seemed to be stuck in a trance, expression impossible to read, slowly twisting the flower between her fingers as if attempting to burn the image into her mind. The petals were a bright, bold violet, the centre glowing yellow like the sun at midday in Toussaint, no, like the sun at any damn time in Toussaint. A refreshingly beautiful sight such as this one was rare in such a barren, war raped land as Velen. Of course they weren't native to this dumping ground for the gods, Phillip had them brought in from Nazair; If only he knew back then that a garden was not what his family needed, but something who truly cared and loved for them to consolidate and confide in.   
"I only ever had reeds and stones to look at in that damned swamp. Now I can care for all the colourful plants here again." Seeing Anna holding the purple bloom reminded the witcher of Iris Von Everec. At least this story had a relatively happy ending. Love and misfortunate often worked hand in hand in these stories.

A few hours later, the White Wolf departed the Strenger's hospitality and headed to the Chameleon. In hindsight, it would've been quicker to go from Yoana to Éibhear, but he hadn't planned this far ahead at the time, a habit he picked up from living every day as if it could be the last on the path, which in many cases, was wholly possible.

The Witcher sighed, whistled for Roach and began the rather long trek back to Novigrad. He'd stop by the Inn at the Crossroads and Mulberydale on the way, in case he could pick up a quick contract for a few extra crowns, not that he needed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone: *actually shows gratitude for Geralt's work*  
Geralt: Shooketh
> 
> Also, I'd love some feedback on the way I am formatting this work, I'm afraid it may be slightly to chunky(?) and I might need to space it all out a bit more.


End file.
